


The Malfoy Who Hated Christmas

by MiHnn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/pseuds/MiHnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a Grinch, you see, a very bad wizard, who desperately needed to be buried in a blizzard. - Written for Round 3 Dramione Remix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Malfoy Who Hated Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Original Couple: The Grinch/Max (Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas!)
> 
> Thank you, Dors, for betaing this!

Deep within London’s heart, behind a brick wall,

Lay a curious town neither big, neither small.

It is hidden from those who are different, you see,

For this town was more magical than you or me.

This town was filled with more wizards than you could tally,

And no street was more packed than Diagon Alley.

 

It was the season of laughter and the season of cheer;

There was someone always crying out, “Christmas is here!”

The countdown has started; you can count, too,, if you may;

Diagon Alley was full, more so than Hogsmeade Day.

There were children out playing, rolling in the snow,

While parents discussed presents and upcoming woe.

For even though everyone loved this season,

There was no doubt, that it cost more than one Galleon.

Everyone was chatty, for it was hard not to be,

When the season wished you be happy, literally.

 

But there was one who didn’t enjoy the Christmas cheer.

He was the wizard well-known for spending the season with beer.

Sulky and blond, he was a very rich bloke,

A young heart, yet dark, like he’d suffered a stroke.

No one knew why someone who seemed to have everything

Shunned presents, Christmas trees, and carollers to sing.

It was a well-known tale wizards passed around

That Draco Malfoy was the grouchiest in town.

 

Wizards and witches knew that this time every year,

The Malfoy heir was nothing but darkness to their cheer.

There were those who had nothing but hope in their hearts,

Yet the wealthy, young Malfoy acted like a Boggart.

Much too mean was he to children of all ages,

Destroying their snowmen, threatening to put them in cages.

He sneered at wizards, demanded they let him be;

Why, even one year, he’d set fire to a Christmas tree.

 

It was not for want of anything that he acted the way he did,

Which is why it was confusing when he became the ‘grumpy kid’. 

 

But it wasn’t just Draco who was the talk of the town,

but his assistant, Hermione Granger, who worked for that clown.

The golden trio, she was one of the three,

Kind-hearted and sweet and so easy to please.

How someone so nice worked for him was never understood,

Some thought “Blackmail”; others that, underneath, he was good.

Regardless of opinions and gossips and what-not,

No one denied that she was helping the wealthy snot.

 

On this special day, with Christmas one day away,

A bushy-haired witch was spotted making her way

Through the town with massive Christmas decorations,

Holding onto the arm of a wizard without patience.

“Granger,” he snapped as he pulled away his arm,

“As my assistant, you must listen to my qualms.” 

She rolled her eyes and glared before saying, “Malfoy,

For once in your life, can you _not_ be a kill-joy?”

 

He glared right back, because that was his way,

“Tell me again, how do you earn your pay?”

 

“Don’t you remember?” she said with a little bit of snark,

“I’m your assistant who takes you out for walks in the park.

I feed you, I clothe you, I pet you when you want;

I even follow when you go out for a jaunt.”

 

“I am not a dog, Granger, and I’m not your pet.

Even if I was, you’re meaner than a vet.”

 

“Of course not, Malfoy. You know as well as I do

That I was given this job so I could to get through to you.

Had you actually done what you had been told,

Your mother wouldn’t have hired me to make you fold.”

 

Sighing loudly so that all could hear,

Draco tried again to be more clear.

“It’s been a year. I think it’s time that you moved on with your life.”

 

“Oh, Malfoy,” said Hermione, “You would miss me like a wife.

During the past year, we have hardly spent time apart,

And no matter how you ask, you know I’m still too smart

To fall for something that you usually do

When secretly, I know you’re just being you.”

 

With narrowed eyes and twisted lips, Draco looked quite blue,

“You know,” he said strongly, “I still don’t like you.”

 

“That’s all right,” said Hermione with a grin.

“I don’t like you either. How’s that for a win?”

 

“But you come to work everyday—“

 

“Only so as to get paid.”

 

“And you don’t leave me alone—“

 

“To stop you from getting laid.”

 

“That’s not funny, Granger,” he said with a sneer.

“Thanks to you, I haven’t had a witch for a year.”

 

But Hermione was snickering because this was all quite funny;

It was especially amusing because she was being paid so much money.

She would never have thought to become Malfoy’s sitter

Had his mother not hired her—her skin was quite thicker

Than most, and because she was an excellent companion

To a person so grumpy, he’d lost his last minion.

 

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” said Hermione with a flaunt.

“What matters is that this year, you don’t act the debutante.

I have spoken to your mother and reluctantly to your father,

And it has been decided that this year, you will not be a bother.”

 

Draco narrowed his eyes and gave a big huff,

“All right, Granger, this is more than enough.

I don’t understand this peculiar need

To make me love Christmas, a holiday of greed.”

 

“Christmas is more than just that, don’t you see?

Anyway, you’ll be spending it with me!”

 

Silent he was, as a moment passed,

Before Draco laughed and laughed and laughed.

She had to be joking, he thought she just had to be;

Everyone knew she spent the holidays with too many Weasleys.

But when he saw her with her arms seriously crossed,

Draco couldn’t help but think he just might have lost.

“No,” he said once, before repeating times three.

“I am not going to let you do this to me.”

 

“It is only one day. A day you hate, after all.

Maybe I won’t force it on you, if you accept the call

Of Christmas just as everyone does.

It’s more than a party and how you dress;

It’s about family, friends, good food, and love,

It’s about giving a freezing stranger your glove.”

 

“It’s about buying things—“

 

“The joy kindness brings.”

 

“It’s about besting your neighbours.

Admit it, Christmas is for the benefit of strangers.”

 

“Malfoy, it upsets me you think that it is,

But it doesn’t matter because I have a quiz:

Who is rich and grumpy, with a shiny blond head,

Who has no choice but to join me for Christmas instead?”

 

“I’m not going, Granger, I don’t care what you do.”

 

“All right, Malfoy. You would say this, I knew.

Which is why it pains me to actually tell you

That your parents have left via the Floo.

I believe that Malfoy Manor is closed from today

And you have no Galleons in your pocket, anyway.

Good luck finding a place to rest your sweet head

When everyone save you and I have left and gone ahead.

That’s right, Malfoy, you must believe that it’s true,

After all,” she said with a wink, “I know how to handle you.”

 

“This is preposterous,” he said. “It’s wrong and you’re dead.

There is no way I’ll be sleeping in a Weasley’s bed.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said she, with a mocking air,

“You won’t get a bed, Malfoy, you will get a chair.

Their house is so small that, though their family’s quite big,

It’s as uncomfortable as sleeping on a twig.”

 

Draco’s jaw twitched because he was annoyed, you see,

But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t able to believe

That Granger had bested him once more,

Which meant he had to get her back times four.

 

“All right,” he said with what he hoped was a sincere smile,

“I suppose there’s no harm in spending time there a while.”

 

Granger looked at him with a worrisome frown.

“If you say so, Malfoy, then it’s time to leave the town.

The Weasleys are waiting for us as we speak.

They were quite excited to have you this week.”

 

“Were they?” asked Draco. “That was quite nice of them.

What are we waiting for, it’s nearly five to ten.” 

 

Suspicious and wary Hermione was,

But she wasn’t going to let it ruin Christmas.

And so she took his hands in the gloved hands of hers

Before Apparating herself and a Malfoy who could be quite dangerous.

 

Draco winced when he arrived and saw The Burrow.

It looked like it wouldn’t even survive tomorrow.

It was precariously perched, leaning towards one side,

The garden non-existent but for a gnome that tried to hide.

But more than the building, the colour, the land, and its choice,

What scared Draco the most was the carnival-like noise.

If he was going to spend Christmas with wizards so busy,

Draco had no doubt he needed more than one shot of Firewhisky.

 

When they entered the Burrow, it was far from silence;

If anything, the occasion took on some madness.

“Hermione!” they cried before they all joined together,

Grabbing the girl into a hug as if they would strangle her.

Draco tried, at first, to count how many Weasleys

But lost count of redheads and started feeling queasy.

 

There was one of the twins looking quite odd without his other,

With a witch on his arm who’d been a Gryffindor Chaser.

There was the former Head Boy when Draco had been at school;

He had a wife now and children who play-pretended they were ghouls.

The witch who was married to the oldest Weasley child was familiar.

It took a while, but Draco couldn’t believe he didn’t remember her;

Why, she had been a chosen Champion, a Delacour,

During the Tri-Wizard Tournament that took place in Year Four.

There was another, a dragon tamer, seemingly alone,

But Draco couldn’t sense a sadness that would make him drone.

 

And then there was… “Potter,” Draco said, standing tall.

“I see you did marry a Weasley, after all.”

 

Potter looked at his wife, who was playing with a boy rather small.

He had eyes like his mother with the hair of his father most of all.

“Malfoy,” said he and, with not a trace of a sneer.

Stuck out his hand. “Merry Christmas. I hope you had a good year.”

Surprised and confused, Draco took his hand;

He shook it and nodded, saying the same, as was planned.

 

“Is Christmas here always such a mess?”

 

Potter laughed. “It is, but it’s also the best.

There’s nothing better than celebrating the day

With people who love you in every possible way.” 

 

Draco’s lips thinned as he thought what that might be like,

But he couldn’t, not at all, because he never had such a plight.

Christmas was always an occasion to throw a party or two;

At Malfoy Manor it was nothing more than waiting for guests to arrive by Floo.

 

“I take it you lot take Christmas very seriously.”

 

Potter shrugged. “Shouldn’t we be thankful for our blessings mightily?”

 

But before Draco could answer, Hermione appeared in a panic,

“I thought Ron wasn’t here. You lied to me, Harry.”

 

“Malfoy,” said a redhead who gave Draco a sneer.

Stepping forward, gaze narrowed, he said, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Weaselbee,” greeted Draco because he was polite, you see.

“I can see you’ve gotten taller and thicker, like a tree.”

 

Weasley stepped forward, preparing to argue who was best.

 

“Enough,” said the Mother-Weasley, “Ron, he is our guest.”

 

Granger stepped forward, placing a hand each on their chests.

“That’s enough, you two. Ron, please don’t be stressed.

He’s here only for the night and tomorrow for the day—“

 

“Hermione, how could you bring this git into The Burrow today of all days?”

 

“He’s changed.”

 

“He hasn’t.”

 

“He needs a place to stay.”

 

Ron scoffed. “Of course, ‘cause a mansion doesn’t have enough space.”

 

Granger narrowed her eyes as she stepped in front of Draco.

“Ron, please, you have to welcome him and try to be more

Considerate for everyone during this time,

Especially because he is a good friend of mine.”

 

Draco stiffened in surprise just as all the Weasleys did.

It couldn’t be more apparent that she surprised them with her bid

Of confidence where she shared her friendship

With someone who she argued with and threatened to quit.

 

Yes, Draco could not let himself believe her,

He knew how people ignored the Malfoy lure.

He had had friends once and presents, everything he ever wanted,

They were taken away by suspicious glances and insults that he counted.

There was a mark, you see, a very Dark mark that no one neglects.

What they didn’t know, what he didn’t tell, was how he wanted to forget.

And no matter what he did, they saw him the same way.

So he woke up, gave up, until his mother’s plan came into play.

 

“This is not Christmas,” said Weaselbee, “not while he’s here.”

 

“Ron,” said she. “We still have Christmas cheer.

“We have presents, eggnog, and even a Christmas tree.

Just… please… don’t be upset with me.”

 

Weasley sneered, but he was outnumbered,

With a sulky disposition, he stormed outward.

After he left, everyone sighed in relief

Then began the madness and the continuing activities.

 

There was hustle and bustle with noise everywhere.

Weasleys and their children were giggling without a care.

Draco sat silently in a corner away from them all,

“Dear Merlin,” he mumbled under his breath, “Why did I come here at all?”

He watched them all with darkness in his heart.

He thought he hated them before, but now the annoyance started to smart.

He looked at the decorations, The Burrow bursting at the seams,

He wondered if they would celebrate if they had no dreams.

Would they be so happy without biscuits, presents, and a tree?

Of course not, he thought bitterly, because they were as selfish as he.

 

That was when Draco had an idea,

A very bad, a very sad, a Slytherin-like idea.

He watched them all pitter-patter noisily around,

Thinking of his next move and blocking out the sound.

 

He had patience, a lot of patience, taught by his father;

A very opportunistic mind that was trained by his mother.

So, when the Weasleys moved to the back garden, he did something bold:

With a flick of his wand, he hid all the items the spell could hold.

All of the food, the decorations, and the presents under the tree

Were spelled small, transferred into a box, and locked with a key.

Placing the box in his pocket, he then decided to leave

Then ran into someone who was wiping his nose on his sleeve.

 

“What are you doing?” asked the boy innocently.

 

“Nothing,” said Draco, far from gently.

 

Mini-Potter looked far from appeased.

When Draco stepped around him, the child followed with ease.

 

“Where are you going?” the boy asked again.

 

“Nowhere,” said Draco. The child was a pain.

 

With each step, the boy followed him, small legs and arms flailing,

Sinking into the snow, falling, gasping, and sniffling.

Draco rolled his eyes and wanted to leave him.

The boy was determined, even though the chance was slim. 

“Why are you following me?” Draco sneered.

 

Wheezing and stumbling, the boy neared.

 

“You forgot one,” he said innocently as he held out a biscuit with a smile.

“You took the rest, but I saw you missed one from the pile.”

 

Draco blinked at the biscuit, then he blinked at the boy.

“You’re giving it to me?” he asked, wondering if he was being toyed.

 

The boy nodded and held it out again.

Draco simply stared, unsure if this was a game.

 

“Do you understand what I did?” he asked. “I took away your things.”

 

The boy nodded then smiled and acted like his actions didn’t sting.

 

“It’s all right,” he said. “Aunt Hermione says you’re sad.

So, if you want anything, we should give it to make you glad.”

 

“I’m not sad.” Draco huffed with a bit of irritation.

“I’m rich and I’m happy.” He sneered in aggravation.

 

“It’s okay,” said the boy as he held out the biscuit.

“Please, take it, Mr Malfoy, from me this small gift.”

 

Draco gritted his teeth and thought to shove the boy in the snow

When through the air came such music of happiness, not woe.

 

“What is that? Are they singing?” _Why aren’t they crying?_ , he snarked.

 

“It’s midnight!” cried the boy. “It’s Christmas! It’s started!”

 

“But they have no presents,” sputtered Draco, “No tree or food.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, Mr Malfoy, it’s a day of good.

I know you were leaving and hoping to spend Christmas somewhere else,

But if you want to,” said the boy shyly, “you could be here instead.

I know we don’t have presents or food or any decorations,

But we can sing, play games, and celebrate without separation.” 

 

When little James Potter took Draco’s hand in his,

Draco nearly balked at the contact before his heart expanded with glee.

He had done an awful thing and the little boy didn’t care.

He wondered if the rest of the Weasleys were just as fair.

 

Draco followed the boy back, hand in hand, with a sigh;

This was not the Christmas he’d envisioned, and he didn’t know why.

He thought this year would be the same as every year before.

He thought he could celebrate the holidays while stewing in woe.

 

But when he entered The Burrow, what surprised him were the smiles,

The welcoming nature of Molly and Arthur, who asked him to stay a while.

The Weasel was still sulking in the corner, but no one else was;

They were filled with holiday spirit, celebrating Christmas.

There were hugs and kisses, with wide smiles all around.

Draco had never seen such sincerity. It didn’t make him frown.

 

“Is that a smile I see?” asked Hermione as she came closer to him.

“Are you finally accepting what I’ve been telling you on a whim?”

 

Draco shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said,

“They should be upset, angry, annoyed, but instead—“

 

“They are celebrating—“

 

“They are happy.”

 

“Don’t you understand?”

 

“Not in the slightest.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said before she took his hand. The brightest

witch of their age always said she would teach him a thing or two.

Suddenly, she looked up and her smile quickly grew

 

Because the grouchy Malfoy, the grouchiest in town,

Had placed a small box in her hand, albeit with a frown.

 

“It’s a gift,” he said.

 

“It’s about time,” said she.

Her expression was nothing but full of glee.

 

With a flick of her wand, she got rid of the spell he had cast.

Everyone laughed when all was put right as in the past.

The biscuits were back, the pudding, and the tree.

Draco hated to admit it, but he liked that it made them happy.

 

“I think, Draco, you might be turning a new leaf.”

 

“Don’t get used to it. I won’t give you any peace.” 

 

“Do you agree now that this time of year is really special?”

 

“Not really,” said Draco, wanting to still be the rebel.

“I still don’t understand why so many people think

That this time of year is the only time life doesn’t stink.”

 

“Maybe you’re right,” said Hermione, “Or maybe one day you will understand,

And when you do, you’ll love Christmas, and it will all be unplanned.”

 

Draco snorted. “I doubt it.” He snorted again.

 

But Hermione simply pointed upwards with a smile quite tame.

“Do you remember the bet that we made days ago?”

 

Draco’s eyes widened when his gaze rose to the mistletoe.

“I thought you were joking.”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

“I sadly thought you were.”

 

“Why are you so afraid, Malfoy? Scared to kiss a girl?”

 

Draco scowled and scoffed before pulling her flush against him,

He enjoyed her gasp of surprise before he bent her backwards and, on a whim,

Kissed her fully on the mouth, ignoring everyone’s sound of surprise,

before pulling back, nodding and deciding to Disapparate before sunrise.

 

It wasn’t until years later, when Draco watched his son full of glee

Rip open presents and sing carols very happily,

That made Draco pull his wife onto his lap,

Surround her with his arms, and feel like quite a sap.

 

“Do you understand now, what I told you all those years ago?”

Hermione asked him happily, with a dramatic flair for show.

 

“I think I do,” Draco said with his hand on her belly.

“The lesson is never listen to you or I will be very

Much stuck with children who love Christmas so much

That I can’t help but get involved in this holiday of a farce.” 

 

“You don’t love it?”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“Then what are you saying, Draco?”

 

“I’m saying, my dear Hermione, that you forced me to let go

Of all the things I thought that made Christmas so fake.

You got me to buy decorations, for Merlin’s sake.”

 

She laughed as she cuddled closer, whispering in his ear,

“Admit it, you love it. I’ve seen it for years.”

 

He watched his son as he felt for the kick of his daughter,

“Hermione”, he sighed, “You brought me right in for the slaughter.

I admit, this time, it’s not quite bad.”

 

“It’s lovely.”

 

“I know you think so, and for that I’m quite glad.

Let’s not forget you made me wear a Weasley-made sweater.”

 

“Tell me what you want.” She laughed. “How can I make this better?”

 

“You can’t,” he said finally after a moment of silence.

 

“You’re happy?”

 

“I am.”

 

“I knew it,” she said with a tone of defiance.

 

With that being the perfect moment of bliss,

Hermione sealed it with a loving kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, I took a few liberties with the rhyme. I'm not as good as Seuss, but at least I tried. :D


End file.
